Trouble Cooking
by Jantallian
Summary: A short tale involving Slim and Jess caught with their pants down, six angry Indians, Jonesy in despair, a dead elk, two aquatic kids, a practical joke - oh, and the duck flying to the rescue of course.


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**Trouble Cooking**

Jantallian

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This somewhat fanciful little tale is a more detailed account of the incident mentioned in _Eagle of Bone, _when Slim and Jess first meet Storm Feather.

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* * *

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There was mutiny brewing in the kitchen of the Sherman Stage Stop and Relay Station.

"Jonesy, you can't possibly want all these vegetables for dinner!" Andy Sherman moaned. Actually the moan was close to becoming a whine, but he had his position as the oldest boy of the household to maintain.

"Get peelin'!" was the only response his appeal got from the crusty cook and custodian of home values in the Sherman ménage.

"My fingers are sore! And I can't see Slim and Jess settling for less than a good filling meat stew," Andy pointed out.

"Jess'll eat anything," Jonesy retorted.

"As long as it's got meat in it!" Andy knew his guardian well and was not going to be fobbed off with generalizations.

"Look, Andy!" Jonesy exploded. "You think I don't know what men need after two months on the trail? They'll be sick of beef and if they don't get some fresh growin' herbs and vegetables down them, they could get sick for real. Believe me, I've seen it often enough!"

"Sorry, Jonesy." Andy knew full well how much experience Jonesy had as trail cook and chuck wagon master and Slim had taught him to be respectful of expertise.

"Then git on peelin'!" Jonesy ordered. With the impending arrival of two starving cowboys, one of whom was Jess _'What d' you mean there's no more?'_ Harper, he was in no mood for interruptions or opposition. But it wasn't five minutes before he was challenged again.

The back door crashed open and Mike Williams burst in, wild and worried. He took one look at the six ducks laid out on the roasting pan and gave a yelp of horror: "Jonesy, you didn't! You know how much Jess loves Napoleon and his wives!"

"As if I could forget!" Jonesy snorted. "What d' you take me for? Those are wild duck, Mike. Dan Travers dropped them in for us on his way to Laramie to sell the rest of his trappin'."

Mike managed to look relieved and worried at the same time. "But Napoleon's missing, Jonesy. He ain't in the pond."

"Isn't." Andy corrected automatically. "Where else did you look?"

"He ain't in the yard or the barn or the vegetable garden," Mike asserted defiantly.

"Try the fence-post round the bend to Laramie," Jonesy suggested. "That's the way they'll come and I swear that bird's psychic as far as Jess is concerned!"

The door crashed open again, this time as Mike dashed out. Andy instinctively jumped to follow him but controlled his impulse as he remembered his peeling.

Jonesy saw this with approval and affection. Andy had matured a lot since Mike had become part of the family. His rebellious restlessness had the outlet which neither of the older men had really had time to give him. He still hero-worshiped Jess's wildness and sense of fun, but he had also developed a fine Sherman sense of responsibility for Mike. And not without justification: Mike's lively curiosity and uninhibited capacity for adventure got him into more scrapes than there were spaces in a day for.

Now Jonesy grinned and said: "Go on after him. Ain't no sense in standin' in here worryin' about what he's gettin' up to!"

He stood in the doorway and watched Andy vault onto his palomino, whom he had left hitched to the corral rail in the shade of the barn. No ranch-bred boy walked when he could ride, although Mike was happy to sprint everywhere on his sturdy legs. And Andy evidently intended to catch up with Mike before trouble could strike. Jonesy grinned again - he wouldn't mind betting that Slim had been behaving in much the same way to Jess over the last couple of months. He watched them out of sight and then went back to his vegetables.

Andy caught Mike up as he neared the bend. The youngster was running head down, arms and legs pumping like pistons on a steam locomotive. Nonetheless Andy and his mount caught up easily. Andy leaned over and seized Mike by his belt, hoisting him aloft with his arms and legs still going.

"Lemme down!" Mike protested vigorously, a flailing arm catching Andy in the ribs.

"Ouch! Calm down, Mike. You won't get there any quicker by running and you'll scare Napoleon."

Mike submitted to bring hauled aboard the palomino, but replied crossly: "That's Jess's duck and he ain't afraid o' nothing!"

"Isn't afraid of anything," Andy corrected absently as they rounded the bend and anxiously scanned the fence-line ahead. Sure enough, to their great relief, a bright bundle of feathers was topping the very next fence-post.

Andy slowed the palomino so that their approach was gentle. Not, as Mike had pointed out, that much scared Napoleon. He was thoroughly used to horses and their riders and the wagons and stages which ran through the yard. In fact Jonesy was fond of saying that, for a creature who was basically a flying dinner, the little drake was far too cocky - and to this he frequently added: "Just like his owner!"

**tc-tc-tc-tc**

Napoleon's owner, if he could be so designated, and his partner were currently jogging wearily along the road from Laramie, on the last stage of their journey home. Both horses and riders were dirty, hot and tired. A huge cloud of dust was raised by the hooves of the six horses - they'd taken their own second and third mounts along because it was safer than trusting a horse you didn't know. This just added to their discomfort and both they and the horses were irritable. The only one feeling lively was Jess's grey, Smoke, and since his mischievous temper was becoming bored as well as irritable, their progress was further hampered by the necessity of keeping him from amusing himself by attempting to take chunks out of the other horses with his teeth and hooves.

Slim was not amused, but he was resigned. In some ways Smoke was a better cow-pony even than Traveller, for his short temper was in abeyance when fully occupied with hard work and he was certainly fearless in the middle of a panicking herd, possibly because, like his rider, he thrived on the adrenaline rush.

They reached the fork in the road and Jess glanced across at him. "Top road?"

"Yeah. Much quicker in this weather."

"Fewer ruts too!" Jess's grin was reminiscent as he recalled his first encounter with Slim and the argument about why he wasn't on the main road.

Slim had the same memories. "If Traveller still doesn't like them, I guess that brute will make our lives hell if we stick to the main road!" He turned a jaundiced eye on the grey, who was fidgeting restlessly. Honestly, where that animal got its energy from ...!

"More hell than usual," Jess agreed, giving Smoke an affectionate slap on the neck.

They urged the tired horses up the first steep slope which led to the upper of the two trails, running parallel to the main road used by the stages and heavy freight. Once they had climbed up a few sharp contours the road just rolled along the skirts of the mountain in a series of gentle, easy to ride inclines and slopes. It cut off a long bend on the lower road and, for any horseman, was quicker in good weather than the deeply worn main highway.

It was not long before they passed the cemetery and were riding across Sherman land. The horses quickened their pace, snorting eagerly as they scented water ahead and a chance to slake their thirst and maybe cool off a little. Their riders were not going to oppose this instinct. A man relied almost totally on his horse and these six had done faithful and skillful duty over the last two months, giving their uttermost to each and every challenge which trail-herding posed.

As soon as they reached the shore of the lake, Slim and Jess dismounted and unsaddled their mounts. They looked at each other and a flash of mutual agreement passed between them.

"Guess we could smell better!"

"Gonna save Jonesy some hard clothes scrubbin' if we get the worst of the dirt off now."

Men as well as mounts were divested of impeding tackle in short order. They dumped the clothing from their saddlebags into the shallows, along with what they were wearing. The thought of being clean outweighed any considerations of modesty at this juncture.

Then they led the horses into the water for a while, to cool down and wash off the dust of the trail. Once this was done and their equine companions were hobbled where they could make the most of the grazing, the riders were free to attend to their own state of cleanliness. After a period of vigorous splashing and scrubbing, they both swam out into deeper water and floated blissfully, appreciating the relaxation which came from being almost weightless after a long period of physical labor.

"Peaceful, isn't it?" Slim murmured into the soft breeze blowing across the surface of the lake.

"Yeah – always providin' there ain't no landowner wavin' a rifle in your face!" Jess grinned reminiscently.

"You asked for it!" Slim reminded him. "The notice says _No Trespassing._"

"And it's your water!" Jess swept an armful of it at Slim, splashing him in the face.

"Why, you -!" Slim spluttered, making a grab for his mocking partner. It was to no avail. Jess could swim like an otter and easily evaded Slim's retaliatory attempts to duck him.

"I thought y' said it was peaceful?" Jess reminded him, surfacing just out of reach.

"Yeah. No pesky trespassers around!" Slim grinned.

He could not have been more wrong.

**tc-tc-tc-tc**

Napoleon had heard Cyclone's approach, recognizing the pace of Andy's mount without even bothering to look. For a mallard, his hearing was particularly acute and in any case he knew all the animals at the relay station individually and could identify them as such. In the same way, as Jonesy had pointed out, Napoleon knew Traveller and, therefore where Jess was, even better than all the rest. Right now, he could detect, against all probability, that horse and rider were not far off.

The boys had not even drawn to a halt when Napoleon launched himself into the air and flew off determinedly over the trees in the direction of the lake.

"Oh no!" Two voices yelled as one. You never knew with Napoleon – he could just be stretching his wings, he could be seeing off some wild intruders, he could fancy a dip – and he could get struck by a hawk, shot by a hunter, caught by a trap or any one of a hundred dangers facing a lone duck in the wild. The fact that Napoleon himself was fully aware of the dangers of his environment and more than capable of ensuring his own safety as far as instinct and wit allowed, did not mitigate the concern the two boys felt as they saw him disappear.

"Hold tight!" Andy ordered grimly. "We ain't gotta let him out of our sight!"

"Hav – hav-en't g-g-got too!" Mike amended cheekily, but somewhat jerkily, as Cyclone surged forward at a gallop.

As they bounded up the top road, keeping sharp eyes on the little flying speck in the distance, Andy at least felt a twinge of conscience at deserting Jonesy while he was trying to cope with all the cooking preparations, not to mention the fact that they had not warned him they were leaving the immediate vicinity of the ranch house. But it was too late now – only Cyclone's best speed would keep up with Napoleon's.

**tc-tc-tc-tc**

In the event, it was perhaps a good thing they did not return immediately and encounter the next visitor to call in to the ranch house.

Jonesy was having troubles of his own.

Trouble with the cooking.

Or, if not with the cooking, then certainly with the potential ingredients.

And the visitor.

It was a warm day and the stove was going full blast, so he opened the window and propped the back door ajar. Then he'd awarded himself a cup of coffee and brief break before getting the major component of the meal, the ducks, into the oven. As always, when he was relaxing, Jonesy gravitated naturally to the piano Jess had given him – so long ago it seemed now.

_Those had been hard days in many ways, those first days. Slim not understandin' Jess's reactions and reasonin'. Jess not bein' willin' to give him or anyone else the slightest clue about his past or the pressure it sometimes put on him. But the Texan's instincts had always bin good – 'specially his instinct for protectin' Andy without makin' the kid feel he was bein' tied down by rules. Slim had learned a darn' lot about bringin' up a youngster from Jess. But then Jess had learned a dang'd lot about livin' a peaceful, settled life from Slim …_

Jonesy's skillful fingers created a rippling harmony while a warm, reminiscent smile lit his worn countenance.

_Jess reckonin' the ranch as his home's good, very good, but that ain't no guarantee it'll always be peaceful!_

At which moment, there was a tremendous, resounding, metallic crash from the kitchen.

Jonesy stopped playing and leaped to his feet, cursing the pain which instantly ran through his bad back. It was sufficient to prevent him rushing into the kitchen, which was probably a good thing. The minute or two it took him to catch his breath before he hobbled over to the door was fortuitous, because, as he pushed open the door, he saw the last thing he could have reasonably expected.

The baking tray was on the floor. All but one of the ducks had disappeared. The last duck was hanging from the mouth of a hungry cougar.

Man and cat stared at each other for a long moment.

Jonesy was the first to react. "Git!" he yelled instinctively. "Go on, git outta my kitchen, y' varmint!"

The cougar regarded him with disdain. After a few seconds thought, it obviously deemed him inedible or too big a mouthful or maybe an over-indulgent dessert on top of a main course of six ducks. Whatever its thoughts, it turned and vanished through the open door in a flash of tawny lightning.

This was just as well for Jonesy, since his safest reaction would have been to slam the kitchen door shut and find a rifle. As it was, he leaned in the doorway for several minutes, thanking his lucky stars the encounter had not turned out worse and waiting for his racing heart to slow down. Then he went to the rack and did indeed grab a rifle. He limped over to the open kitchen door and looked out cautiously to make sure the cat was not adding to its dinner by decimating the chickens.

The cougar was obviously one which opted for the easiest way – ducks killed by someone else and conveniently laid out for the taking, followed by a clear escape route with no obstructions. Jonesy could see it, a bronze streak racing down the road towards Cheyenne like a small dust storm.

Then the actual catastrophe struck him.

No dinner!

No dinner and the imminent arrival of Jess '_I ain't had a square meal in weeks' _Harper!

This called for instant action, but was easier said than done. Jonesy reviewed the possibilities. The obvious choice was to kill a couple of their own chickens, but frankly the agility required to chase down and grab the free-range poultry meant that Jonesy was wont to rely on Andy to do the deed. Accordingly, he went out to the yard and hollered.

There was no answer. Andy's palomino was still missing from the hitching rail. There was no sign of activity anywhere, bar the odd tumbleweed and dust-devil stirring lethargically in the gentle breeze. Jonesy shook his head and started towards the bend in the road leading to town.

After a hundred or so yards, he hollered again.

Still no answer.

Now he was faced with a dilemma. Either the boys were out of earshot or they were ignoring him for some reason. Walking further up the road to find out what was going on wasn't common sense, given his slow speed and bad back. Jonesy heaved a sigh and turned on his heel. _There was nothing for it! Four-footed menace or not, he'd have to ride a horse!_

Ten minutes later the calmest, most co-operative horse on the Sherman ranch left the yard and was urged into a gentle lope by its reluctant rider. He was pleased he had managed thus far without being trodden on, kicked, bitten or deposited in the dust. But his triumph was short-lived when he drew a blank round the first bend.

The fence post was empty. There was no duck. There was no palomino. There were no boys.

_And there was still no dinner!_

After a moment of madness in which he contemplated lassoing a chicken or two, Jonesy realized he had to find some other solution – and quickly! That was with the cook's part of his brain. By far the larger part of his thinking was worrying about what those boys were up to now. They were mounted and heading in the opposite direction to the big cat, so that was one less worry but their disappearance was ill-timed and mysterious at best.

_Leavin' right in the middle o' the preparations! Where would they be scallywaggin' off to? With no warnin'? _Jonesy wracked his brains some more and then inspiration struck. Andy and Mike had been experimenting quite successfully with a type of fish-trap which they'd had seen the local tribes using. _The lake. That's where they've gone!_

Jonesy dug his heels into his staid mount's sides and urged it up the trail which ran past the lake on the edge of Sherman land.

_The lake. And if that trap was still workin', maybe a chance to get something for dinner!_

**tc-tc-tc-tc**

Back at the lake, however, Slim's assertions about peace and quiet were being abruptly challenged. They had both been floating so peacefully that their presence had gone unnoticed by the young elk which had limped out of the trees and made its way slowly down to the water's edge.

Its behavior was so unusual that they realized at once something was wrong with it. It completely ignored the horses, not twenty feet away from it. It halted at the edge of the lake but did not drink, although its head was hung low. Its breathing was so harsh and labored the sound came clearly to them across the still water.

"Ain't gonna last long," Jess observed in the merest whisper.

Slim turned over cautiously, taking care to make a little disturbance as he could. He began to swim very gently towards the horses and the old tree trunk on which they had deposited their saddles. The elk was obviously suffering from some injury and had probably, as Jess pointed out, had not long for this world. An opportunity to add to their food supplies, if it was a healthy specimen, was also not to be ignored.

Jess continue to float motionless. Slim inched his way ashore, managed to pick up his rifle without a sound, took aim and put a bullet neatly through the animal's head. It crumpled instantly, falling back on to the shore on the side furthest from them as a result of the impact of the bullet.

Now that there was no need for quiet, Jess reached the shore in a few powerful strokes and found his footing in the shallower water. Slim didn't bother with any more clothing, as butchery was a messy business however expert you were and he'd only need another wash afterwards. Jess too just picked up his knife, with a similar intention. It turned out to be lucky that Slim had not put down his rifle yet when the bush stirred silently at another quite different arrival.

On the other side of the dead animal stood a tall young warrior. He was clearly a leader, for his companions were grouped behind him in a loose semi-circle.

Jess took two strides which brought him to Slim's side.

Eight young men stared unflinchingly at each other.

**tc-tc-tc-tc**

Some ten minutes earlier, on the far side of the lake, Andy had pulled Cyclone to an abrupt halt, only seconds before riding out of the concealing woods. This was not through any caution, but because Napoleon had momentarily alighted in the branches of a tree immediately above them.

"Napoleon! Come on down!" Andy ordered hopefully.

"Yeah, we can give you a ride," Mike added, firm in the belief that the duck understood English.

It was in fact probable Napoleon did understand certain human speech, but only that of Jess. The duck regarded the Texan as his own special pet and had made a particular study of his every word and action. He was also disdainful of human modes of transportation and although he did sometimes hitch a ride on Traveller, the duck was in no doubt that wings were best. Accordingly he spread his own as he skimmed low over the lake and headed out with unerring focus on the return of his favorite cowboy.

"Darn!"

"Yeah, I thought we'd got him then!"

"Now what d'we do, Andy?"

Andy followed the duck's line of flight. "Can you see someone in the water over there, Mike?"

Mike squinted against the light reflected off the water and nodded. "Yeah. Might be two people."

"There's horses too, under the trees," Andy observed. "I bet they've stopped off for a swim."

Mike grinned. "Let's sneak up on them!"

"How? Cyclone's not exactly inconspicuous?"

"Hobble him here. Remember Jess taught us that trick of breathing through reeds? We can swim underwater, then pop up and splash 'em. Give them a big surprise!"

Andy was never averse to a practical joke. They had both swum the width of the lake many times and he had no doubt that they could do just as Mike had suggested. If their elders noticed anything, it would be the duck, not the boys.

"Napoleon'll distract them."

"Come on, let's do it!"

**tc-tc-tc-tc**

Thus it was that the those confronting each other over the dead elk were blissfully unaware of the stealthy approach of the practical jokers. The jokers themselves had not, of course, seen the shooting of the elk and the emergence of the hunters, and so were equally blissfully unaware of the potentially dangerous situation into which they were swimming. Danger certainly seemed to be hovering in the wings, just waiting for the wrong cue to precipitate its entrance.

The young warrior tossed back his black hair braided with eagles' feathers and took a step towards the carcass of the elk.

Slim immediately moved forward too and Jess was step by step beside him.

The brave took another pace, which brought him right alongside the dead animal. His followers stayed poised in their semi-circle.

Slim echoed the leader's move, but this time Jess remained behind him, recognizing that the contest was between two hunters alone.

The warrior stooped, seized the elk by one leg and, making use of the sloping shore on which it was lying, flipped it over as if he had been turning a feather mattress.

"My arrow!" He pointed to the broken shaft which they could now see protruding from the elk's ribs.

Slim lowered his rifle so it touched the animal's head. "My bullet!"

It looked like a complete stand-off to Jess. Claiming someone else's kill was bad manners at best and the basis for a savage feud at worst. _And there ain't no easy way out of it! _he reminded himself. While Slim had, indisputably, actually killed the animal, he would not have done so easily had it not been mortally wounded by the brave's arrow. Slim could, of course, back down and concede the elk to the Indians, who probably needed the provision far more than the ranch did. But losing face would earn him no respect, since it would appear he was intimidated into it rather than being generous. The question now was not just who had the more legitimate claim to the carcass for their larder, but who would flinch first?

Jess was prepared to back Slim up with everything at his disposal. Since he was clad in nothing but a soaking wet pair of drawers and armed only with a knife, this was not a great deal. Jess Harper was, however, as may have been observed on previous occasions, never daunted by long odds. He somehow managed to convey the impression that he was fully equal to the five braves facing him.

The braves who made up the rest of the hunting party did not relax their alert vigilance, watching not just the dispute, but also everything that was going on in their immediate surroundings.

Well, almost everything.

"Surprise!"

A sudden shout from the lake split the air, causing instantaneous reaction on the part of all parties. The impassive warrior did, in fact, look momentarily surprised by the sight before him of two young boys erupting from the water like a couple of playful otters. The swiftest of his companions had an arrow to his string in the blink of an eye. In the same second Slim brought his rifle to bear on the leader and Jess made an almighty leap back into the lake, his arms spread wide to protect the two boys from attack.

"Andy! Mike! Get behind me now!" Jess did not often give direct orders, but when he did both boys obeyed instantly. This was as well, for the brave still had his drawn bow aimed unerringly at them. Only it was Jess who would take the arrow.

Another impasse.

Slim could put a bullet in the leader as swiftly as the brave could put an arrow in Jess. Neither outcome was to be desired but sometimes such confrontations were played out with pride and reputation as the highest motivator. Slim knew this full well. He did not flinch or show any concern, any more than did the young man facing him. They locked eyes for a long moment.

"It is not the work of warriors to shoot children!" Slim observed quietly.

The faintest of smiles twitched the young warrior's lips as he raised one eyebrow inquiringly: "Do not the children of warrior-hunters grow to be great warrior-hunters too?"

"Then they are worth more than the price of an elk!" Slim asserted.

"Dead hunters leave more elks for those who live," the leader countered. It was difficult to tell if he really meant to kill them all over the matter of a dead elk, for his demeanor remained calm and impassive. He clearly trusted his braves to win any shooting match which might erupt.

"Guess y'd have more honor huntin' a movin' creature than shootin' two kids who're just sittin' ducks!" Jess challenged as he pushed the boys towards the shelter of the fallen tree and began to move back to the shore, heading right at the waiting braves. "I'll give y'all a runnin' chance. See if y' can hit me!"

Five arrows were almost instantly aimed at him, though none were loosed - yet.

The words 'sitting ducks' still hung in the air when there was a whirr of feathers and a hiss of wings as Napoleon surged up from the shadow of the bank and alighted on his favorite perch – Jess's shoulder. Why he should have done so at this point, and why indeed he had not flown straight to Jess in the first place – that being his single-minded intention from the outset – was destined to remain unclear to anyone not conversant in fluent mallard. Jess could usually do a fair interpretation but since Napoleon only uttered a single and distinctly menacing quack, it did not give him much to go on. Perhaps the duck recognized that the confrontation was not of Jess's making for once and that he did not need defending until he made a move towards the obviously hostile possessors of the bows and arrows?

Be that as it may, Napoleon's appearance and attachment to Jess changed the whole situation.

The twitch of the leader's lips became decidedly more pronounced. A surprised murmur rippled round his followers – something to the effect that this could not possibly be Jess's spirit animal, given the obvious daring of his actions. Mike and Andy had the sense to remain where they were while Jess drew the fire from them, but they cheered the duck loudly, having seen Napoleon go into battle before. Slim and Jess exchanged a lightning glance which conveyed that the situation was getting out of hand, but probably not in any very threatening way.

Jess however was not impressed with the reaction of the braves. "You sayin' this duck's a coward!" he accused, advancing on Napoleon's detractors with a far from conciliatory expression on his face.

This time it was Slim and the warrior who exchanged a lightning glance. Neither of them wanted the tension increased again to the point where a fight threatened to break out. Their mistake was to take their attention off the duck!

Napoleon launched himself from Jess's shoulder, swept smartly round Slim's head administering a sharp slap with one wing as he did so, then sped across the small intervening distance and did exactly the same to the bemused leader. Mission accomplished to his satisfaction, he gave one exasperated quack which clearly said '_play nice, boys_!' and alighted once more on his pet's shoulder.

"Napoleon!" Jess admonished, "That ain't manners!"

It might not be manners, but it had everyone grinning, even the two who had been smacked round the head. Nonetheless, the warrior responded with unexpected solemnity when they had all finished chuckling.

"The protection of the winged one is gift," he told them. His tone and expression conveyed a significance which appeared to be spiritual as well as physical. This was evident as he went on: "I am Storm Feather. I understand the ways of the flying ones."

At this his followers visibly relaxed and Jess reached up to run a hand over the gleaming, iridescent feathers of the mighty mallard, removing him at the same time from the perch on his shoulder, which, given his shirtless state, was far from comfortable.

"Don't underestimate this one," he advised quietly. "He ain't the fool of your legends."

The warrior gave man and duck a thorough inspection, then delivered his judgment: "This is a spirit of affection, who desires harmony to bind warriors in friendship."

"And turn away the hunters' bows!" Jess responded dryly.

At this riposte an actual grin crossed Storm Feather's face and he made a swift hand gesture to his companions. They immediately lowered their bows and returned the arrows to their quivers. Slim grounded his rifle. Jess and Slim once more exchanged speaking looks, this time of relief and some amusement. Andy and Mike, correctly assessing that the situation now posed no danger, emerged from behind the fallen trunk and rushed over to Jess to make much of Napoleon.

The matter of the dead elk had not, however, been successfully resolved. It was Napoleon's influence, perhaps, which solved this problem, although Slim and Jess, discussing the whole encounter afterwards, were never really convinced that Storm Feather intended a fight to the death over it.

"The spirit of affection urges us to make one brotherhood," the warrior brave declared. "To share meat, to eat and rejoice together – this is good!"

"And to divide equally for the content of the tribe, this is good too," Slim replied, knowing that the hunters would return to their camp with the results of their hunt.

"So let us divide!" Storm Feather heaved the spoils of the hunt over onto its back and drew his knife.

Jess already had his knife out, so the butchering of the carcass proceeded apace. There was a moment when Storm Feather extracted the heart and liver and proceeded to divide these up as a delicacy to be shared among the hunters. Fortunately both Slim and Jess had experienced this before and accepted a small portion, while encouraging Storm Feather to treat his fellow hunters to most of it. Andy and Mike had already been dispatched to collect firewood, so they did not gain this new cultural experience, even though it would have been a useful one.

Napoleon, meanwhile, had taken up a perch on a fallen tree – the same one against which Slim Sherman had found a lone drifter taking his ease so long ago. The duck did not care much for cooked meat, preferring his slugs and snails in their natural state, but he was glad to see the humans settling down to the age-old ritual of cooking.

Cooking naturally implies a cook - or the entrance into the situation of a cook. Thudding hooves around the shore of the lake heralded the arrival of Jonesy. From the reaction of the boys and their elders, it was obvious to Storm Feather and his band that this stranger, inept rider though he appeared, was nonetheless a member of the Sherman tribe.

"What in the world are you doing here?" Slim demanded, as Jonesy's mount slowed to a halt alongside the make-shift fire pit. He was very glad that peace had been agreed among them and there was no chance of his old friend being skewered by an arrow.

"A cougar ate everythin' I'd got for dinner!" Jonesy snapped as he slid stiffly to the ground. "Thought that was Jess's trick!" He glared at the Texan, who at once contrived to look as if no such idea had ever even entered his mind.

Storm Feather looked meaningfully at his companions, pointed to his mouth, then to Jess, and uttered a single word: "Igmuwatogla"

This caused great hilarity, since the braves obviously considered this a much more appropriate spirit animal for Jess than the duck. Jonesy, even though he was not privy to the joke, knew from long experience that Jess's appetite could match a cougar's any day. Despite his sardonic comment, the old cook was heartily glad to see that plenty of elk was on offer to compensate for the lost ducks.

All the same, he looked meaningfully at Napoleon and warned: "Fate's saved y' for now. Think y'self lucky we ain't short of meat!"

"Jonesy!" Andy, Mike and Jess all remonstrated in chorus.

"OK, I guess the duck ain't more'n a mouthful for this crowd," Jonesy admitted, waving an arm at the company now relaxed and lounging round the fire. "But he's still no more'n a flyin' dinner all the same!"

The mallard ruffled up his feathers and favored Jonesy with a duck-glare. He didn't understand Jonesy's words as well as he did Jess's, but he sure as hell could read the tone and whether he was being threatened or not. Just let any mere human try to intimidate him!

Jess just grinned at this. "Like I warned Storm Feather and his boys, never underestimate Napoleon!"

"Yeah, we'd none of us be here if it weren't for him," Andy reminded them unadvisedly.

"And what exactly did Napoleon have to do with you two leaving Jonesy to manage the relay station on his own?" Slim asked sternly. "Not to mention what you were doing swimming around in the lake!" For the moment he opted to ignore the fact that the said relay station was temporarily totally unmanned.

"We thought he was gonna get eaten," Mike responded quickly and guilelessly, "and we couldn't let that happen to Jess's duck, could we?"

"Going to –" Slim began, but Andy said added equally quickly: "It was just like fate. He led us straight to you and Jess."

Slim gave a snort of derision, knowing full well that it had nothing to do with fate because Napoleon was an avian Jess-finding device.

Jonesy was still preoccupied with the problem of dinner and added dryly: "An' I guess we daren't tell Jess he'd got to go without dinner either! Seems like fate's had a hand in that too, 'cause there sure as heck ain't nothin' t' eat back at the ranch."

"So what are we waitin' for?" demanded the ever-hungry Jess '_Don't know where m' last meal came from_' Harper.

"For meat to cook." Storm Feather pointed out. He had been following the conversation with understanding and amusement. "The hunger of the hunter must wait upon the power of the flame."

At this the brave who had been tending the elk steaks skewered over the glowing embers uttered a brief word in his own language. No-one needed any interpretation. Dinner was ready and they fell to with all the enthusiasm of the very young, the inordinately hungry and the extremely relieved. There was sufficient elk-meat to satisfy even Jess's appetite and still plenty left to fill the respective larders of the ranch and the tribe. And it was shared amicably as befitted those brought to brotherhood by the spirit of reconciliation in its duck-form.

It was not therefore until Jonesy was certain both his young men were fully fed that he commented contentedly: "Well, fate sure saved me the trouble of cookin' for y'!"

His relief at the outcome was not shared by everyone. A sudden thought struck Andy, who complained bitterly: "If that's so, Jonesy, why did fate give me the trouble of peeling all those vegetables?"

.

* * *

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Notes:

Acknowledgements:

_The great creative writing of the 'Laramie' series is respectfully acknowledged. My stories are purely for pleasure and are inspired by the talents of the original authors, producers and actors._

_Thanks as always to Westfalen for excellent beta-ing, especially in ironing out the wilder improbabilities of this tale!_

Not much authentic information about the duck as a totem animal can be found on the Internet, but a couple of brief references suggest: '_This creature teacher gives lessons in emotional comfort and protection_' and '_Water energy, helper of seers, affectionate, community oriented, can clearly see/deal with emotions_.'

Storm Feather's tribe is imaginary, but I've borrowed the Lakota word for cougar.


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